Screams and Whispers
by Kendra Luehr
Summary: After being suspended from Arkham Asylum, Dr. Harleen Quinzel is forced to take the case of Tate Langdon and soon discovers, to her horror and intrigue, a mysterious web of terror and seduction. BatmanxAHS Crossover. TatexHarley Quinn - MATURE CONTENT
1. An Unfortunate Meeting

**A/N****:** Hello, all! This is my very first American Horror Story fic, but, knowing me, I couldn't resist adding a twist of my own (even though the series is completely awesome the way it is). After talking with some friends about the characters, we all agreed that Tate sounds a _lot_ like a young Jack Napier (aka The Joker), and from there the pairing of Tate x Harley Quinn was born within the dark, depraved recesses of my mind. So basically, I see a potential Mad Love-esque scenario between the two, except none of what happened in Mad Love will happen in here (with the exception of the poor doctor falling madly in love with her patient).

I actually **made a video on YouTube with this pairing**, so if anyone is interested, here is the link (and take out the spaces): http: / / www. youtube. com/ watch?v = eQKzpof1lgI And for the record, no, this video has NOTHING to do with the plot that will take place in this story.

I should probably mention that my interpretation of Dr. Quinzel is NOT like the comics/cartoons, so she's not going to be bubbly, cheerful, and wild. To fit in with the dark atmosphere, she's going to be more like a Nolanverse Harley, meaning she'll be dark and snarky.

Also, I know this pairing may be off-putting to some since it's got hints of pedo/necro in it, but the way I see it, if Tate hadn't died he _would_ be of age, so it honestly doesn't bother me at all. And my interpretation of Dr. Quinzel has her around the age of 27, so it's not like she's an old fart moving in on a cute high schooler.

Now with that said, I hope you sit back, relax, and enjoy! ;)

**CH 1: An Unfortunate Meeting**

Un-fucking-_believable._ Practically stomping through the grass, Harleen glared up in disdain at the alleged "Murder House," her eyes rolling skyward as she began grumbling about piss-poor assignments. Ever since it'd been discovered that she harbored "romantic feelings" for the Joker, her overseer had removed her from the case and completely kicked her out of Arkham Asylum.

Although reassignments weren't uncommon for those on probation, this particular one was a real doozy. Some worrywart mother had sent in a request (apparently Dr. Ben Harmon had refused to continue with the case), begging for assistance to be sent in for her "dear, sweet son." Although he seemed normal enough, Tate Langdon's file revealed he was a potential danger to himself and others.

Perusing said file with only an acute interest, Harleen's left stiletto clipped the top porch step and sent her sprawling to her knees. With a sharp curse, the blonde rubbed at her scraped skin and swore yet again, only to jump in surprise when she realized she was staring at someone's bony ankles.

"Are you alright, Madame?"

Slowly raising her gaze to the old, tired-looking redhead, Harleen nodded in bemusement and unsteadily rose to her feet. Her knees were raw and throbbing from the impact, but she'd suffered much, much worse in her lifetime.

Clearing her throat, she brushed back a stray lock of hair and greeted "Hi, um…sorry to just come out of nowhere like this, but I'm Dr. Quinzel from Arkham Asylum. I've been sent here to counsel with a Mr. Tate Langdon."

The maid gave Harleen a curt onceover, then turned with a soft "Follow me, please."

Relieved that she'd found the right place, Harleen quickly did as she was told and followed the redhead inside. Taking in her surroundings with considerable awe, she breathily praised "Wow, this is one hell of a place…it sure beats my apartment back in Gotham."

"Yes, it's very charming" the maid softly spoke – it was almost unnerving how she never turned – her voice softer still as she added "By the way, you can call me Moira. If you need anything, please don't hesitate to ask."

"Thank you" Harleen acknowledged, realizing with slight unease that the maid was leaving her alone. "Oh, um…is Mr. Langdon in this room?"

Pausing mid-step, Moira slowly turned around and regarded the blonde with a small smile. As she looked at the closed double doors, she nodded once before continuing on her way to the kitchen.

Well _that_ was certainly weird…

Shrugging it off, Harleen finally worked up the nerve and pushed the doors open with as much poise as she could muster. When meeting with a new patient, she always liked to make an impression.

There, in an over-stuffed chair sat a handsome young man with the darkest, most piercing eyes she'd ever seen. They made her nervous somehow, and as she entered the room she coyly greeted "Hello there, you must be the Tate Langdon I've heard so much about. My name is Dr. Quinzel, but you can call me Harley – everyone else does."

Not even waiting for his response, Harleen tossed Tate's file onto the coffee table and sat down before him, her long, slender legs crossing at the knee and forcing the soft, silk skirt to bare a portion of her thighs.

"Mind if I smoke?" she asked. Once again she wasn't searching for an answer, so as she fished her cigarettes out of her purse, she lit the calming cancer stick and took a grateful inhalation. Something about this kid reminded her of the Joker, and in result she wanted to be as relaxed as humanly possible. With the Joker case, that man had been able to peg each and every one of her flaws right from the get-go. Would Tate be the same way?

Blowing a ring of smoke from her mouth, Harleen's lips curved upward into a slight smile and she leaned forward. As she did so, a hint of ash dropped onto her thigh and burned her skin, the blonde cursing as she hurriedly brushed the ash onto the floor.

Well so much for remaining cool and collected…

Still trying to appear unfazed, Harleen took another drag and gave a cat-like stretch, her free hand now playing with her hair as she silkily began "Well Tate, I figured we'd start with why you feel the need to harm others in your dreams. Your file says you only kill people you like – is that because you feel like giving them a symbolic gift of sorts?"

Harleen was honestly grasping at straws, but she was genuinely curious to see what Tate had to say.

The young man in question smiled, but it wasn't an expression of warmth. He seemed…_sarcastic,_ almost, and as he leaned forward in his seat, Harleen subconsciously leaned back.

"Where's Dr. Harmon?" he demanded, his eyes never leaving hers. "If you're so curious about my motives, you should ask him since I've _already_ answered that question."

Harleen's mouth opened in a surprised "O," her finger tapping the ash from her cigarette before she placed it to the side. So, the kid thought he could pull the tough guy act. Although frustrating, it wasn't anything she hadn't dealt with before.

"You're lonely."

Harleen froze. Ok, so _that_ was something she'd never dealt with…

"Excuse me?" she demanded, trying to break the tension with a scornful smile.

"You're lonely" Tate reiterated, a smile of his own forming as he folded his hands in his lap. "I can tell by your posture and the way you carry yourself…you hunch your shoulders in a subconscious effort to keep things bottled up inside, and you act like nothing affects you because you want to prove you're strong. You don't _like_ it when people question your methods in medicine."

"Cute effort, but no cigar" Harleen coolly returned, her blue eyes now like ice. "We're here to discuss you, _not_ me, so if we could please get back to…"

"So what happened?" Tate coyly cut in. "I'm guessing you've been suspended or something, 'cause no one in their right mind would give up their position for a brief, lowly case like mine." Leaning forward with an almost conspiratorial air, he prodded "So what was it? Did the boss catch you sucking off your patients? Oh!" Snapping his fingers, he pointed at her while slyly adding _"I_ know! The boss' wife caught you sucking _him_ off, and rather than risk a full-blown scandal, he shipped you all the way out here." When Harleen moved to speak, Tate glibly assured her "Don't worry, Miss Quinzel, my mom was a cocksucker, too. I'm used to the type."

Harleen was absolutely flabbergasted. Just who the fuck did this kid think he was?

"For your information" she stiffly began, "I left on my _own_ accord, and I came here because I needed a break from city life. It gets tiring having to worry about rapists, muggers, and drug dealers on a day to day basis."

"Well who says those don't exist here?" Tate shot back. "It's a filthy world we live in, Dr. Quinzel, and there's nothing you or I can do about it. Running away is pointless, 'cause sooner or later everything catches up with you."

Harleen frowned. "I'm not running away from anything…are you?"

"Nothing you'd understand" he cryptically returned. "Now not to be a dick or anything, but I'd honestly rather speak with Dr. Harmon about all this."

"And I already _told_ you that's impossible" Harleen impatiently snapped. "Dr. Harmon isn't here, so I'm afraid you're going to put up with me for the time being. I want you to trust me, Mr. Langdon, and feel that you can always confide in me – I'll never judge you."

"Is it because of Violet?"

"Excuse me?"

"His daughter" Tate clarified. "I told him I jerked off while thinking of her, and ever since he's been acting really weird towards me."

Harleen smirked. Was this kid really _that_ dense?

"Well, with all due respect, his reaction's pretty understandable… If I were married and had a kid, I'd probably act the same way."

"Maybe so, but he should understand – he's a very sexual man, himself" Tate wryly returned. "Although it may not seem like it, this house _does_ things to people…things they can't always explain."

Harleen quirked a brow. "What, you mean sexual things?"

"No, not always – sometimes a murder's involved."

"Right, the whole "Murder House" thing" Harleen dismissively acknowledged. "I'm guessing you actually believe in that stuff?"

Tate nodded. "Well yeah, of course…I _live_ that "stuff" each day."

Harleen gave him a funny look, but before she could even think to ask him what he meant, the young man nodded toward the clock on a nearby desk and announced "Time's up – this session's over for today, doc."

"Uh, I think _I'm_ supposed to be the one to say when we're done" Harleen shot back, desperate to keep a shred of the kid's respect (not that she'd had any to begin with). With a sigh and a dismissive wave, she closed her notepad (which was un-shockingly blank), and agreed "Alright, fine… Although we only had our session for fifteen minutes, we can make up for it tomorrow morning."

"Gee, I can hardly wait" Tate sardonically returned, a crooked grin forming across his lips as he rose from his perch. Looking to the clock again, he announced "Now if you'll excuse me, I think I'll go find Violet and make out for a while. …She's the only accommodating one in this entire house."

Harleen said nothing in return, but her eyes followed his every move until he was completely gone from sight. Once she was officially alone, she cradled her head in her hands and leaned forward, a groan escaping her lips as she realized she'd be staying a _lot_ longer than she anticipated.

"Rough session, Madame?"

With a yelp, Harleen jerked upward and saw Moira standing before her, the doctor's eyes wide as she snapped "Look, we're going to have to put up some ground rules here, 'cause you can_not_ keep doing that! I'll have a heart attack!"

"Sorry, Madame" Moira returned, yet she was unsuccessfully hiding the hints of a smile. "Is there anything I can do?"

Absently rubbing the side of her face, Harleen shook her head and mumbled "No, no, I'll be fine… If anything, I'll need a couple Advils in preparation for time spent with that stupid kid. I don't know how you do it, Moira, 'cause he's just…just…"

"A typical teenager, Madame?"

"Well if _that's_ a typical teenager, I sure as hell don't want any kids" Harleen grumbled. Now rising from her seat, the blonde fished out another cigarette and asked "So is my room ready? I assume one's been prepared, 'cause I was told I'd be living on the premises."

Moira nodded, yet she didn't appear too pleased. "Yes, Madame, your room is completely prepared – you'll be next door to Miss Violet."

Suddenly appearing interested, Harleen asked "Who _is_ this Violet character, anyway? All Tate did was talk about her, so _please_ tell me she's not his sister…"

Moira gave a wry smile. "No, Madame, Miss Violet is the daughter of Mr. and Mrs. Harmon. Tate's taken a shine to her, for whatever reason, so he spends most of his time here in this house."

"And they actually tolerate that now that Mr. Harmon's against them dating? Wow" Harleen mumbled, folding her arms and glancing at a nearby portrait. "Not that it's any business of mine, of course, but the girl could definitely do better. Tate's a monster, for lack of a better word, so I can only hope and pray that when I counsel with his mother, she'll be far more tolerable."

"Well, Ms. Constance isn't entirely a people person, but she can always get what she wants" Moira returned. It was evident by her tone that she didn't think too much of Mrs. Langdon.

Harleen, however, was rather intrigued. "Yeah? Well she sounds like my kind of woman – I, too, always get what I want, although this is a rare instance of my charms failing miserably. In case you didn't already guess, I don't exactly want to be here."

"Nobody does, Madame" Moira softly acknowledged, now motioning for the blonde to follow her. "If you'll come this way, I can show you to your room."

Obediently doing as she was told, Harleen picked up Tate's file and her suitcase before heading after the redhead, a chill running up her spine as they walked down the hallway. "Dear God, do you ever feel like you're being watched in this old place? My mind's _already_ playing tricks on me…"

Moira said nothing, which naturally unnerved the blonde even more. For cripe's sake, wasn't anyone _normal_ in this damned house?

After a few moments of walking, the redhead announced "Here we are, Madame. You should have the house to yourself until 5:00, which is when Mr. and Mrs. Harmon are expected to return from the hospital."

"Hospital?"

"Yes, Mrs. Harmon is expecting."

Harleen grimaced. "A baby? You mean a whiny, bawling baby with incredible lungs? …How wonderful for her."

"Yes, it should be a joyful addition to this old house."

Not even bothering to agree, the blonde wanted to know "And what about Tate and Violet? I thought they were still here?"

"I'm not quite sure where they are at the moment, Madame, but they should be around here somewhere."

Well _that_ was weird – why was Moira acting as though she had the house to herself when she, in all actuality, did not?

Deciding it didn't truly matter, Harleen thanked the maid for her help and at long last found herself alone. Plopping down on her bed, she unearthed a trashy romance novel from her suitcase and leaned back against her pillow, deciding that she'd worry about the Langdon case in the morning.

**A/N**: Good, bad, somewhere in between? Worth continuing? Please let me know! ;)


	2. A Force to be Reckoned With

**A/N****: **Wow, I just...sorry. I guess I don't really have an excuse other than a lack of inspiration, but here ya go. To make up for it, I've included a bit of smut. Because smut fixes everything, right? -coughs- Anyway, if I don't have anymore readership for this, it's my own daggone fault. I was originally going to include a third scene, but I decided I'd kept you guys waiting long enough. I can always add it into future chapters.

**CH 2: A Force to be Reckoned With  
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With an unladylike yawn, Harleen stood in front of her full-length mirror and stretched. Still bedecked in her silk black nightie, she finally appraised her face and grimaced. "Girl, we have got a _lot_ of work to do..."

As she reached for her concealer and foundation, Tate's "loneliness" speech came to mind, and she subconsciously bristled. Did her vanity reflect her desire for companionship?

"Gee, I dunno, Harls, aren't you supposed to be the doctor?" she quipped aloud, only to groan when she realized what she'd done. "Great, now I'm talking to myself..._always_ a comforting sign."

After finishing her foundation, the blonde added some mascara before pausing mid-stroke.

_Thump. Thump. Thump._

What the hell _was_ that?

Irritably re-capping her make-up, Harleen placed it onto her dresser and paused to listen once more.

_Thump. Thump. Thump._

Ok, so _now_ it was getting closer...

Instinctively diving for her purse, she unearthed a small handgun she always kept for protection. As she held the cold weapon within her grasp, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

_'Get it together, Harls...this is an old house, so it's _bound_ to make creepy noises.'_

_Creeeeeak.  
><em>

With a cry, Harleen turned and blindly fired a shot smack-dab into the door's molding.

A masculine cry mirrored hers before a frantic, "Don't shoot!" directly followed.

Blinking in bewilderment, Harleen shakily lowered her firearm and beheld a tall, dark-haired man, his hands raised in surrender as he gave a weak smile.

"Hi, uh...is everything meeting to your liking so far? I've already been shot at twice today, so I guess we're off to a good start," he gibed. When Harleen only stared at him in mute horror, he cautiously greeted, "I'm Dr. Ben Harmon, the man who lives here... I'd like to think you didn't try to kill me on purpose just now, but lately I've been on every woman's shit list."

"Ben Harmon?" she asked, now lowering her firearm and taking a step back. "Oh God, I am _so_ sorry - I must look like a complete spaz!"

Ben gave a small smile. "Not any more than my wife, I assure you. I actually just got back from the hospital."

"Yeah, so I heard... How's the baby?"

Ben quirked a brow. "What? Oh no, no, I just got back from the _mental_ hospital. Vivien had a nervous breakdown and needed to be checked in ASAP."

Finally noticing the bandage on his temple, Harleen placed a hand over her heart and winced. The bullet wound was obviously caused by grazing the skin, for otherwise he'd be deader than her job at Arkham.

Clearing his throat, Ben shrugged and explained, "I know it looks bad that _I_ didn't try and take care of her, but her mental state's officially too much for me to handle on my own. She's a danger to herself and our family."

"Personally, I think you should worry more about Tate," Harleen confessed. "I mean, I know I haven't met your wife yet, but your daughter's dating a mentally disturbed kid."

Ben frowned. "Believe me, I've tried keeping them apart. Tate has a big knack for getting in this house uninvited. Speaking of which, I assume you're getting ready for your second session?"

"I was before you came, yeah," Harleen admitted, coloring once she realized she was still in her nightie. Hurriedly exchanging her gun for her robe, she slipped her arms into the garment and turned back with a sigh. "I guess I'd better finish getting ready now. And, uh...sorry about the damage to your door. I promise I'll pay for it."

Ben smiled wryly. "Maybe you can replace my pants, too? I just about pissed myself when you shot off that gun."

Realizing that Ben was joking, Harleen laughed and nodded. "Yeah, sure, although I doubt I'd be too good at picking out men's clothing. It'd probably have frills and bells on the trim." Now moving to close the door, the blonde shut Ben's smiling face from sight and pressed her forehead to the wood.

Holy _shit._ It'd been less than twenty-four hours at the Harmon household, and she'd _already_ nearly shot and killed someone... Couldn't she go anywhere without leaving a fine line of destruction in her wake?

Shrugging it off, Harleen slowly turned from the door and prepared for her second round with Tate Langdon.

* * *

><p>"You're late, doctor."<p>

"And _you're_ awfully observant this morning," Harleen teased. Setting her armload of supplies onto the coffee table, she caught her breath and heavily plopped into her chair. "I'm really sorry about being behind schedule, but I had a run-in with your former doctor this morning. He's a very nice man, so you must've done a real number on him to make him pass up your case."

Tate shrugged. "He feels guilty for failing Violet as a father, so he's trying to make up for it by suddenly being forceful and overbearing. I can guarantee it won't work - Violet and I belong together."

"Young people always say things like that, but you'll change your mind," Harleen insisted. "I hate to be all anti-true love here, but you need to realize that romance isn't always all it's cracked up to be."

Tate smirked. "And _you_ need to realize that not everyone shares your shitty experiences with love. Seriously, doctor, you shouldn't let your personal feelings interfere so much with my case."

Harleen opened her mouth to speak, then instantly closed it. She honestly couldn't believe she'd let Tate get to her _again,_ but here he was, smug and nonchalant while she sat there sweating bullets. Smarmy little _prick._ She needed to get it together, or else she'd botch yet _another_ case.

Irritably brushing the hair back from her eyes, she coolly returned, "I'm just trying to help you, Tate. Most kids your age don't understand the meaning of love, so I just figured I'd just give you a heads up."

He smirked. "I think I can take care of myself, doctor. I'm a lot more worldly than you know."

Harleen mirrored his expression of ridicule, for she obviously didn't believe him. Tate was a _kid,_ not an expert on the world - if he was so damned intellectual, he wouldn't be seeking help from a psychologist.

Deciding to move on, she opened the box on the table and took out some paper, crayons, markers, and finger paints. Holding out the paper to her patient, she explained, "I'd like for you to draw me the one person who upsets you most. The key of this exercise is to get to the root of all your frustrations, so it's important that you're completely truthful with what you create."

Tate stared down at the paper in disdain, but to Harleen's surprise (and pleasure), he grabbed a few crayons and began to draw.

"So tell me, doctor, are you wearing any undergarments today? I want to make this as accurate as possible..."

Face paling, Harleen lost her composure and choked out, "Why you _smug_ little-"

"Shh-shh, there's no need to shout," Tate assured her, but, insolent little twerp that he was, he was grinning from ear-to-ear. "If anything, I've just paid you a compliment. Despite your grating urge to fix me, I find you very attractive."

Harleen's mouth dropped open, and she did very little to conceal her comical expression of shock. "I...I... Ok, listen to me, kid, I think you're a touch off in the head..."

"Why, not at all," Tate blithely assured her. "In fact, I'd say my head's functioning just perfectly. ...The one that matters most in this type of situation, of course." Now rising with a dark and feral glint to his eyes, he moved toward her without bothering to hide the obvious arousal tenting his pants.

Oh, God...it was happening again! She'd be damned if she lost another case due to hormones!

Desperate to get back on track, she quickly announced, "Look, kid, you're real cute and all, but you're meant for someone _far_ younger than-"

"I want to make you come, doctor."

Breathless by this revelation, Harleen curled her toes and whimpered when a deep, ache-filled throbbing began to pulsate from her very core. In moments she was wet, and her mind mentally cursed how when it came to seduction tactics, she and this kid were unrivaled equals.

Subconsciously, Harleen parted her knees and watched as Tate's dark, lascivious gaze traveled down to greedily take in the sight. He gave a moan, and then he was...oh God, he was _touching himself_ through his pants, and as he closed his eyes in aroused rapture, she _knew_ that she needed to get out of there before things escalated.

Scrambling for the door, Harleen gave a cry when she tripped over the coffee table and sprawled to the carpet. She was now the perfect picture of surrender, what with her ass being turned up toward Tate's amused gaze, and as she frantically tried to rise back up to her knees, the teen immediately wedged himself behind her so that she couldn't move.

"Tate, please..." she choked out, only to flush when he gave a raspy laugh against her ear.

"Please _what,_ doctor? Perhaps you want me to finger-fuck you to orgasm?" he purred, now biting on the soft hollow of her neck as he slowly, torturously began to raise the fabric of her skirt and pull down her panties. The sensation of his clothed manhood pressing against her folds made her gasp, her body jolting onto her forearms as he gave a brutal thrust of the hips.

"Come for me, doctor," he urged, licking the shell of her ear as his hand slipped between them.

Harleen was both nauseated and thrilled by such talk, and as his fingers traced along her stimulated flesh, she tried her best not to greedily rock into him. For this she was rewarded, and she gave a long, drawn-out cry when Tate's middle finger plunged into her moist center. He rotated the appendage and pressed his thumb to her clit, his breath hot against her neck as he began to roughly, mercilessly dry hump her amidst his administrations.

She could feel his clothed manhood reaming into her in time to his probing fingers, and just when Harleen thought she was about to come undone, it all..._stopped?_

Bewildered, Harleen lifted her head and gasped when she realized she was alone. How the hell was that even possible? It had been so real!

Sticky and embarrassed, Harleen tugged her clothing back into place and sat up with wide, unblinking eyes. That was the last straw - no more erotic novels before bedtime!

**A/N:** At this point, Violet has Tate's heart, and Harleen has his sexual interest. And although some may find the pairing creepy, I honestly don't since he died in the 90's, and because of this, they'd technically be around the same age.


End file.
